


A Taxonomy of Fucks

by Deastar



Series: They Say Love Heals All Wounds [20]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Established Relationship, M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 22:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deastar/pseuds/Deastar
Summary: There’s nothing random about when Sid wants to get fucked. Sid wants Zhenya in him, he’s been amused to observe, in exactly two specific situations: Zhenya has started calling them hat trick fucks and dessert fucks.





	A Taxonomy of Fucks

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are familiar with this series, this particular entry in time jumps forward in time quite a bit from where the series left off, but don’t worry, I’ll fill in the middle bits in due time! This just seemed like it fit the spirit of the fest.
> 
> For those of you who are not familiar with this series, I think this fic stands alone pretty well – the only background you need is that Zhenya and Sid have a soul bond that allows Zhenya to read Sid’s emotions, and there’s a brief, pretty oblique reference to past sexual trauma - like, so oblique you may not be able to find it.
> 
> Speaking of which: CONTENT WARNING for brief, oblique reference to past sexual trauma

Four months ago, when Zhenya and Sid had finally communicated like adults and agreed that they both generally liked it better when it was Sid’s dick in Zhenya’s ass, but that it was fun the other way, too, Zhenya had thought… Well, he’d thought it would be sort of random. Spontaneous. That, every once in a while, Sid would turn to Zhenya and say, “Hey, you want to fuck me?”

After four months have gone by, Zhenya can report that that is not how things have gone. There’s nothing random about when Sid wants to get fucked. Sid wants Zhenya in him, he’s been amused to observe, in exactly two specific situations: Zhenya has started calling them hat trick fucks and dessert fucks.

Sid wants a hat trick fuck when Zhenya has done something spectacular on the ice, something that gets Sid’s blood hot. It doesn’t have to be a hat trick – a penalty shot works, too, or a really filthy game-winner, especially in overtime. When Sid wants a hat trick fuck, he drags Zhenya out of the arena like a caveman, pretending not to hear the catcalls, and pulls Zhenya down on top of him on the stairs, in the hallway, and up against the door, not letting go until Zhenya promises to come back with lube. When Sid wants a hat trick fuck, the two of them leave a trail of clothes from the garage door to the bedroom—if they get that far—and Sid wants to be on his back, the better to wrap as much of himself around Zhenya as he possibly can. He pants like he’s been double-shifted, and he _demands_ that Zhenya come inside him, now, now, _now_. He wants Zhenya to come first, and, as embarrassed by it as he is afterwards, he likes Zhenya to talk about the game when Zhenya’s inside him.

Zhenya _likes_ hat trick fucks.

But if he’s being completely honest, there’s not much in the world that he loves better than one of Sid’s dessert fucks.

He and Sid aren’t kids anymore, and usually one round is all they’re good for. But sometimes, after Sid has fucked Zhenya or they’ve rubbed off on each other or jerked each other off – after they’ve cleaned off and cuddled up, trading kisses with their heads on the same pillow, Sid will want more.

They’ll both be fucked-out and slow, and a little sleepy. Sid’s “Fuck me, yeah?” will be a murmur, and Zhenya’s “Yes,” will be just a breath. Sid will want them both on their sides, Zhenya’s front snug against Sid’s back. Zhenya tried, once, to put Sid on his back, but Sid had made disgruntled noises and rolled right back onto his side before tugging on Zhenya’s arm so persistently that he had ended up spooning Sid again, nose buried in Sid’s soft hair, while Sid gave off waves of contentment.

When Sid wants a dessert fuck, everything is quiet – nothing but sighs and the slick sound of Zhenya’s fingers and then his cock sliding in and out breaks the silence of their bedroom. Sid will be loose-limbed and easy, eyes hazy and mouth so red from kissing. There’s no urgency – they’ll both have gotten off already, and what they’re chasing on nights like this isn’t an orgasm. When Sid wants a dessert fuck, it’s because he’s not ready for the two of them to be separate bodies again, not yet. It means he isn’t ready to let go of that closeness – the way that their breathing falls into rhythm with the undulation of their hips, the way that their hands clench and unclench in perfect time. He wants to keep Zhenya with him, in this basic, ancient way, just a little bit longer.

“Okay,” Sid says, when Zhenya explains this to him while they’re lying in bed one night, “but why do you call them ‘dessert fucks’?”

Zhenya shrugs, a little sheepish. “They come after main course, when you want a little something sweet. So…”

Sid laughs and leans in to kiss him. “All right, that’s cute. And… pretty accurate.”

“I know best,” Zhenya agrees, smug.

“Oh, don’t start with me.” Sid rolls his eyes. “You’re telling me all this as if—first of all, as if you fucking me is always _my_ idea. You ask for it sometimes!”

“Sometimes, yes.” He does, although it’s rare—when there’s so much else they can do, Zhenya often hesitates to ask for something that can still be difficult for Sid, if only because Sid feels bad if he has to say no.

“And when you do,” Sid continues, squinting at Zhenya, “it’s not like _you’re_ so random and spontaneous.”

“Is not—yes, is random!” sputters Zhenya. Sid’s the one who’s predictable, who loves routines and who is so particular, needing everything to be just the way he likes.

But Sid outright laughs at him. “Yeah, right.”

“ _Is_!” Zhenya insists. “What, what you think it is when I ask for fuck you?”

Sid smiles. “It took me a while to figure it out. Because when you want to fuck me, you always want it up against the wall, in the shower.”

“Do not,” Zhenya grumps, although now that Sid points it out, he has a sinking feeling that that might be accurate.

“And then I finally got it,” Sid continues, the corner of his mouth still lifted, “because I realized that it wasn’t so much up against the _wall_ as it was up against the _corner_. You like to fuck me after games where I get targeted. And you do it because you like to put yourself between me and the world.” His smile has gone soft, and the warmth of the bond feels rose-colored, like the light at sunrise. “I don’t have a cute name for it or anything. But that’s when you want to fuck me. Is when I’ve been knocked around, and you want to box me into the corner and press yourself up against me so you can block out the whole world, keep it away from me. Keep me safe.”

“I…” Zhenya is wordless. For as much attention as he’s paid to Sid’s little quirks and wants and habits, he hasn’t bothered to pay attention to his own, apparently. But Sid has.

“I like it,” Sid says quietly. “I mean, you can’t. Block out the world. But I like that you want to try.” He grins. “Also, I really like fucking in the shower, so.”

“So I’m best,” Zhenya says grandly, attempting to salvage some dignity from this situation. “I tell you already.”

Sid’s smile crinkles up his nose. “Eh. You’re pretty good.”

Zhenya squawks.

“Hey,” Sid says, eyes sparkling, “want a dessert fuck?”

“Don’t know,” Zhenya replies, sticking out his lower lip. “ _You_ want dessert fuck is only ‘pretty good’?”

“Okay,” Sid whispers, pulling Zhenya closer. “You’re the best at dessert fucks. The best.”

“Is what I _say_ ,” Zhenya says as he reaches around Sid for the lube.

Sid offers, “I’ll even let you fuck me on my front this time, if you want.”

Zhenya shakes his head, trying not to let his lips twitch and give the game away. “Can’t, Sid.”

“Why not?”

Straight-faced, Zhenya answers, “Can’t have dessert without spoon.”

It takes Sid a minute, but he groans and buries his face in his arms. “I take it back, you’re not the best. You’re not even pretty good.”

“Puns very sexy, Sid,” Zhenya tells Sid’s forearms. “I show you.”

Sid is too amped-up for a dessert fuck, in the end, and they wind up just rubbing off on each other, Zhenya secure under Sid’s broad body, just how he likes it.

When they’re both sticky and spent, Sid lays his head on Zhenya’s chest and murmurs, “You know me. Not because you can read me, or because of the bond, but because you pay attention. That means a lot.”

“You know me, too, Sid,” Zhenya points out, yawning. “And this is why we best.”

“Yeah,” Sid says comfortably, already drifting off. “We are. We really are.”

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback is loved (including concrit)! Even just copying and pasting a line or two that stood out to you means a lot. <3


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